


Echoes in Bondage

by SilkCut



Series: Keys to the Kingdom [2]
Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, More characters to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6655591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilkCut/pseuds/SilkCut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing his wife of two years to an incurable disease that slowly withered her body, Kirei joins a support group facilitated by a kind and beautiful woman named Irisviel Von Einzbern. There he meets a most enigmatic man who acts as if he knows Kirei more than himself. The trouble is...the other man might be right.</p><p>A modern AU where Kirei and Gilgamesh develops a very peculiar friendship that is far more harmful than helpful to their mental health. Once again written in switching second-person POVs</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoes in Bondage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [briewly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/briewly/gifts).



> This might become a multi-chaptered work soon, but for now let's call it a oneshot experiment because I'm not even sure when I can fully develop this idea into a more nuanced story. It's a very persistent concept though which bugged me for days and days even after I decided to take a hiatus on KotoGil, and discontinue my other ongoing fic, _[Freedom in Chains](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6132307/chapters/14053102)_. I finally just gave in and wrote this. Tell me guys what you think so far.

* * *

 

 

 

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**Gliding on glass**

 

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Ms. Von Einzbern smiles as she shows you the assorted sweet things she brought to the meeting for the afternoon. They were placed inside an unmarked pink box in neat little rows. You feel curiously self-conscious as you stare down at this awful stack of colorful confetti of sugar and dough. Its visual quirkiness did nothing to tantalize you into sampling any of the pastries at all. Still, as soon as the woman before you lifts her eyes from the box to meet yours, you take one of them and briefly swipe your finger into the blue frosting she slathered the cupcake in, and then carefully place it between your lips, willing yourself not to grimace once the sweetness assaults your taste buds.

“Is it to your liking, Mr. Kotomine?” she asks in that horribly amicable tone that is even sweeter than the cakes she just baked and offered you. “I really hope everyone would like them. Do you—do you think I’m overdoing it now?”

She lets out a nervous chuckle, lowering her gaze to indicate her doubt and insecurity. You easily tower over her because of the height difference, and from this angle her almost translucent silver-blonde hair catches light from the ceiling, making it seem as if she is wearing a faded halo.

You glance back at the saccharine abomination of rainbow nonsense she is holding, and answer, “Not at all, Ms. Von Einzbern. They’re perfectly delicious.”

You immediately scolded yourself in your head for your weird choice of phrase. ‘Perfectly delicious’? What kind of asshole would say that? Luckily, the bright-eyed, smiling woman still showcasing her work very proudly just takes it as an easy compliment and beams most unnaturally at you again.

“You’re too kind as always, Mr. Kotomine,” her giggle is soft and courteous as she places the box on the long table and takes your free hand to squeeze it firmly. She looks at you and right through you with those peculiar amber eyes and adds, “I’m very happy that you decided to come to this meeting again. I dearly hope you share with us again. In fact, I look forward to it!”

You control your mouth from frowning as you reply, “You’ve been a gracious moderator, Ms. Von Einzbern. I couldn’t ask for anyone else.”

“Oh, Kirei—”she pauses, gasping as she lets your hand go, “May I—May I call you that? Is it too awfully forward of me to…?”

You shake your head plainly. “Not at all. I do not mind.”

“Well then,” she places her hands behind her and smiles wider, “A fair trade is required. You must call me Irisviel now! Iri, for short, if it suits you better.”

“It’s fine, Ms. Von Einzbern,” you try to keep your eyes steady as you reply, “I would not dare presume such familiarity with a married woman.”

 “Oh,” she deflates a little upon hearing your reasoning. “Then I suppose,” she says, “I shouldn’t even have called you by your first name earlier then…”

“That’s different,” you correct her quickly with a wave of hand, “I’ve given you my consent to address me as such, and therefore you are free to do so.”

“But…” she frowns now, confusion apparent in her expression. “I think I did as well, didn’t I? I really do mean that you are very welcome to call me Irisviel.”

“I understand,” you try to smile now but it always feels strange in your mouth, “but I’d rather not. I hope this is acceptable to you.”

“I suppose,” Ms. Von Einzbern sighs now, looking defeated.

Since these group sessions are private, your moderator Ms. Von Einzbern has thought it prudent to use her maiden name as oppose to her husband’s surname when she introduced herself to the members a year ago. You could still remember very clearly the first time you laid eyes on her, and some days you even wished you couldn’t. There are many things you do wish you are allowed to forget although your self-punishing instinct would never allow yourself to.

To appease her a little now, you decide to remark in consolation, “It’s…a very lovely name, however.” You pause before you say it aloud, “Irisviel.”

Her eyes widen momentarily as she looks back at you after you just pronounced her name. And then she laughs. You can’t help but notice a small blush touch her pale smooth cheeks. “Why, thank you for the compliment, Kirei. Yours is just as lovely as well. It means ‘beautiful’ in your own language, does it not?” Her smile is suddenly blinding. It’s a tad annoying.

You only blink at her as you merely say, “Yes.”

“Wonderful!” she claps her hands together and leans her head slightly to the side. Irisviel Von Einzbern is truly a remarkable creature; a beautiful, warm and intelligent woman. Your chest feels all the more hollow whenever she speaks so freely like this with you as if it is the most natural thing for her to do, and looks at you as if you are worth more than just a passing acquaintance for her.

You feel understandably sick.

“We should find our seats then,” you offer stiffly with a slight gesture of hand, hoping to cut this chitchat short.

She nods at that, “Of course. The session will start in a few minutes. We only have one other participant who is coming. Oh, I hope he comes!”

“Another participant?” you are a little surprised. “We have a new member then?”

“Yes,” Ms. Von Einzbern follows you to the line of chairs as she explains, “I’ve met him yesterday. He stopped by and said he was interested to join our group. I told him about the schedule of our sessions and he said he might stop by today.”

“Hmm, I see,” you merely answer her as you take a seat in the second row. Ms. Von Einzbern beams at you one last time before she excuses herself to talk to the young man who has been discussing a lot about his issues about his oppressive father lately during sessions. He smiles almost awkwardly when Ms. Von Einzbern approaches him, looking as if he is supposed to wince as she stretches her gloved hand to shake his. The young man’s name is Kariya, and he is one of the third batch of members who joined the group meetings. He wears nothing but a hoodie and jeans, and you’d often catch him at the very last row of chairs with his head bowed down as if in prayer. His reticence lasted for a whole month before he finally decided to share his piece.

You look down at the cupcake still in your hand. It literally took a combination of hard work and miracle to eat through it and finish everything.

Your gaze now moves around the room where small crowds of three to four people have gathered to catch up before the meeting officially starts. You instantly spot a man with polished blond hair and an aristocratic bearing who only went by as ‘Kay’. He is having a hushed conversation with a very animated redheaded young man named Ryuunosuke who is once again wearing a shirt with some kind of a horror movie mascot imprinted on it. Seeing this pair converse is rather odd, and although you are curious to find out what they could be talking about (the man Kay is obviously cross while Ryuunosuke keeps on moving his hands about), you know better than to engage in other people’s affairs.

Another group that catches your eye is one where Maiya is a part of. She’s much like you in respect that she barely utters a word or two unless necessary, and the only time she ever spoke in length is when she narrated the account of traumatic events that have happened to her back when was stationed in a war-torn country she wouldn’t specify. Now she seems to be attentively listening to a woman in her forties whose name you couldn’t recall at the moment, but whom you remember talked about a grievously co-dependent daughter who kept on financially taking advantage of her. The other pair of women in the group seems to be equally rapt by whatever she is saying, including Maiya herself. There are a few laughs shared among the three while Maiya only nods her head to agree.

Ms. Von Einzbern climbs the short steps leading to the podium so she could get everyone’s attention as she announces, “Good afternoon! We’ll be starting in a few minutes. I’d like to request for everybody to find their seats. Thank you for all your patience. I’m also very regretful to say that our espresso machine is out of order, but we do have a dispenser for hot water. I hope everyone is okay to drink instant coffee instead.” As she says this, she glances at Kay with an apologetic smile. The man in question merely sighs and acquiesces.

Beside him, Ryuunosuke declares loud enough for you to hear that he actually prefers his coffee cheap and accessible, and that he hopes that Ms. Von Einzbern bought mocha-flavored powdered caffeine. Kay doesn’t even look at him.

The support group known only as ‘United Connections’ has at least twenty-six members now. They meet twice a week during Tuesdays and Thursdays from six to as late as nine in the evening. Unlike most support groups, this one which Ms. Von Einzbern herself founded caters to all kind of emotional troubles and traumas since it is her belief that as much as pain and suffering vary from one person to another, there is still a common thread that makes an individual’s unique struggle as universal. Most of the members join because they find that having a scope of different experiences with others—as oppose to tackling about a shared addiction or a behavioural problem with like-minded participants— yields a more enlightening discussion.

For example, Kariya has undergone stressful emotional tyranny from his father while Ryuunosuke tries to rehabilitate his eccentric and damaging sexual fetishes; whereas Kay is dealing with the repercussions of his failed marriage due to a cheating spouse, and Maiya is dealing with the psychological impact of her being captured, maimed and raped by a militant corps.

On the other hand, your tale of woe is simple: eight months ago, you lost a wife to an incurable disease and are now currently contemplating priesthood. You are still rather unsure whether or not it’s the right course of action, and that is the most recent piece of information you just shared last month with this group.

The venue where the group has held these sessions for months now is a spare warehouse that belonged to the Von Einzberns. It is shockingly pristine, well-maintained, and spacious enough to accommodate at least fifty people within. The chairs provided are not at all ordinary plastic or wooden stools. They’re reclining ones with leather seats, the kinds one can find inside movie theatres. The fact that the Von Einzberns can spare forty of them to be used by complete strangers attests to their affluence as well as generosity. The entire place gives off an uncharacteristic ambience of formality as if all of you are simply attending a seminar or a conference as oppose to sharing your deepest secrets and shame.

The session today was decided last week to be started earlier in the afternoon since half of the members can’t extend their time to later hours this time. Ms. Von Einzbern always begins each session with a short personalized prayer which manages to address no specific deity (much to your amusement and to the relief of the others who obviously don’t subscribe to any religion). Afterwards, the podium is open to anyone who would like to share, prioritizing those who have more pressing concerns over others who would just like to vent out. Today there are eight people who spent talking about their problems for fifteen to twenty minutes, and one of them is Kariya. You listen to him rant about yet another example of his father’s passive-aggressive treatment over the years he was raised in that harmful household before he finally expresses fear and anxiety about his adopted niece Blossom (an obvious fake name) and the possible future she may have under his father’s ‘care’.

As soon as the first hour hits, everybody takes a break to eat and chat among themselves. Ms. Von Einzbern’s assorted cake and pastries are an instant hit, and obviously much preferable to the packets of instant coffee which only Ryuunosuke seems to like a lot, judging by the quantity he has drunk within the hour. Kay literally switched seats after the break to avoid him.

It is about a quarter past six when the new member makes his appearance. Ms. Von Einzbern has only announced it in passing earlier, but she didn’t provide any more details except that she was just acquainted with him yesterday. So all heads immediately turn from the moment he walks into the room. Nobody in the group expected, however, that the newest addition to United Connections would be so astonishingly handsome and undeniably wealthy, judging by his clothing and the manner in which he carries himself.

While Kay is easily attractive and formidable in looks and bearing alone, this man on the other hand is oozing with natural magnetism and sex appeal. As a conservative man of faith, it is much to your baffled dismay that you have to admit to yourself that he indeed possesses the latter quality—not that you are particularly attracted to him. No person could ignore this man’s striking appearance and beauty, even if the person tries—and apparently that includes you. Everybody is captivated right now as Ms. Von Einzbern steps up to greet him with another warm smile and a ready hand to shake.

The man has blond hair that looks as if the strands glow. He might as well have just stepped out of a storybook or magazine somewhere because couldn’t possibly exist in the same plane of reality as you and everybody else does. He regards Ms. Von Einzbern with an off-putting stare that is both piercing and dismissive all at once. He takes the hand offered to him and plants a kiss on top of it, all the while holding her gaze for the most intense few seconds imaginable before she is forced to look away out of sheer embarrassment. You swear you can even feel yourself getting uncomfortable as well even if you are sitting yards away in the second row and only able to glimpse him from afar.

There are at least fifteen women in the group, eight of them are in their early to late twenties who, to their credit, at least tried their hardest not to swoon so explicitly at the man. Ryuunosuke, who is usually able to comment on almost everything during sessions, is for once speechless. He has a dazed look in his face instead, and the hint of a smirk playing at his lips tells you that he himself must be getting aroused due to the unbelievable spell that is this unnamed, enigmatic man has cast across the room.

“Everyone,” Ms. Von Einzbern declares as she faces the rest of the group, “I would like you all to give a warm welcome to our new member, Mr. Gould.”

The man Gould scans the room in a leisurely fashion as if he has all the time in the world to make eye contact with every single person, however briefly. He doesn’t strike you as either friendly or hostile. His general mood seems to perpetually sway between interest and indifference. It’s admittedly disconcerting.

“Hey, Goldie!” Ryuunosuke finally snaps out of his stupor long enough to stretch a hand towards the ethereal man of said namesake. “How’s it going and stuff?”

Ms. Von Einzbern clears her throat and says quietly, “It’s Mr. Gould, actually.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard…” Ryuunosuke laughs nervously now as he stands up and keeps his arm stretched. Gould in question just looks at his hand and then meets the gaze of the man who dares extend such courtesy to him. At least that’s how it looks to you. His sudden change in demeanor is surprising, but then again it’s Ryuunosuke. Nobody likes Ryuunosuke. Not even Ryuunosuke likes Ryuunosuke.

You meet Kay’s glance long enough to confirm that he also shares the same sentiment. He frowns and gives you a curt nod before he speaks up, addressing Gould. “Good afternoon, Mr. Gould. I’m known around here as Kay. It’s a necessary precaution to keep a veil on one’s real identity during these sessions, one I think you can understand.”

Kay finally stands and walks close enough to Gould and Ms. Von Einzbern without violating either of their private space. He keeps his hands to his sides as he adds in a courteous yet distant tone, “Welcome to United Connections. I hope you will find your stay fruitful for today,” he glances at Ms. Von Einzbern next. “Your arrival is quite timely. We’re about to start with the open discussion."

“Ah, yes, yes, Mr. Kay is right,” the woman sheepishly smiles at both men and then gives a sympathetic one at Ryuunosuke. “You can sit anywhere you like. There are at least ten vacant chairs…” she gestures slightly.

Gould scans the room again until he nods at Ms. Von Einzbern and Kay to signal that he will take his leave now and find a seat.

It finally occurs to you that both seats in either of your side are vacant. Surely, he wouldn’t sit beside you. You’re too far ahead and there are six more seats nearer to him. So you face forward now, saying nothing. Ms. Von Einzbern is back in the podium to facilitate the next activity for today.

But then Gould slides to the seat to your right and crosses his legs together before he settles on the armrest next, and bumps his elbow with yours.

“Do you mind?” you immediately turn your head slightly to give him what you hope isn’t too obvious of a scowl of disapproval.

“Not at all,” he responds with a neutral voice before he subtly moves his arm _closer_. You could feel your jaw drop as the contact between your arms lengthens into an uncomfortable degree of familiarity that’s as invasive as it is fascinating—

Wait.

No, this is rather rude of him to do. Whoever this rich and privileged man claims to be, you are not just about to sit here quietly and ignore his bad manners.

“I very much mind, Mr. Gould,” you remark in a low whisper, not wanting to call attention to the both of you and interrupt the flow of the group discussion which has just started. “You could use the other armrest to your right and leave me with mine. I would kindly ask you to do that. Please.”

You suddenly feel him leaning close, his breath mere inches to your cheek, and the sensation makes you stiffen first before you jerk back.

He says, “I thought we’re supposed to share things in this group.”

There is an unmistakable edge to his voice now. It’s still unreadable at this point, but you are more than accustomed to the subtleties of human dialogue considering you were raised in a seminary by clergymen since you were seven.

“The sharing does not include personal space, I’m afraid.”

He chuckles and slinks his arm further until it’s resting on top of yours. Slowly, he wraps his fingers on your closed fist. His palm against your skin is soft. His fingers are sinewy, but also elegant and pale. There are calluses in his fingertips, however, which may indicate he may not be as pampered or sheltered as you might have thought. You are tempted to shake his loose grip away.

“What is your name, sweetness?” he whispers the question as the unexpected term of endearment rolls effortlessly from his tongue. “Everyone else can call me Gould. But I like you already, so you’re free to call me Gil.”

“No, thank you,” you are finally able to shake your arm away from the unwelcome weight of his own by lowering said arm to your lap.

He chuckles again and turns the rest of his body towards you. “Quite the recluse, I see. No matter. I have all the time and patience in the world…”

“For what?” You turn your head sharply and are instantly acquainted with wine-dark eyes that look too unreal as if they have a life of their own; staring back at you with unknowable intent. The illusion is probably a trick of light and nothing more, you reassure yourself.

“I don’t know,” he replies and he sounds genuine enough. “But I just decided that I find you interesting. There’s really nothing you could do that can change my mind now.”

“You don’t even know me,” you counter.

“Oh, sweetness, I know enough.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“But what else could I call you?” he pouts, sticking his lips out like a child.

“Nothing,” you say with finality and turn your attention back to the podium.

A whole minute of silence passes that is enough to convince you that Gould is thankfully discouraged. But then he leans closer than before. His lips are hovering in your ear as he mutters, “You’ve lost someone.”

You lean your head away and glare down at him from the angle.

A few seconds pass before you answer him. “I’m not the only one here. You should listen to the others. Some of them have been bereaved as well.”

“Nothing like yours though,” he shakes his head. A tiny smile spreads across his lips. “Or mine, for that matter.”

You shouldn’t talk to him anymore but you can’t help but engage as you ask him, “What the hell kind of difference is there? Dead is dead. Grief is grief.”

He grins widely now. You realize that as handsome as he is, that smile looks like it belongs to someone less angelic.

“But I don’t think you merely lost someone,” he counters.

You narrow your eyes at him, wondering why you’re suddenly inviting this kind of pointless talk from a stranger.

“The person you lost…” he begins, “…represents something else.”

You shouldn’t listen to him anymore but there is just something about the way he is looking at you that has made you ignore everything else.

“And,” you manage to respond, “what could that be?”

He sighs and lowers his gaze for a while before he looks into your eyes once more. Silently, he answers, “Why, what else but salvation?”

You blink at him once. And then another. And then you turn away.

“It’s okay, sweetness,” he is still talking. You rest your hand on your cheek and face further away from him, hoping to block his voice at the back of your head.

Suddenly, you feel his hand on your thigh.

You wait for a few seconds to pass before you turn to glare at him, ready to open your mouth to say something offensive when he interrupts you instead by saying. “You think you’re beyond saving now, don’t you? Because this person you lost—he or she is supposed to be your salvation, right? But you were wrong. And now you feel more lost and alone than you’ve ever felt since you were born.”

The impact of his words rings almost painfully in your ears. You are probably staring stupidly at him by now because he then gives you a victorious smile, knowing he has captured your attention for good.

Against your better judgment, you lean close. You could feel your pulse racing a little as you ask, “Why do you say these things? What do you know about me?”

“It’s all based on first impressions so far,” he shrugs his shoulders as he replies.

“First impressions?” you sound unconvinced, but you don’t want to let him know that he is, in fact, terrifyingly correct about you. Who is this man?

Instead, you ask, “What exactly do you expect me to say to you, Mr. Gould?”

“Please,” he removes the hand from your thigh and waves it dismissively at you, “Just call me Gil.”

You sigh through your nose as you observe his expression for a while. The annoying grin is still intact. His posture is lax but deceptively so; something about his entire person seems as if he is merely preparing to strike, like a snake hidden beneath the blades of grass. It’s unsettling.

“Fine,” you decide that the best course of action is to play along. “My name is Kotomine. Now can you please stop talking to me? I have a discussion to attend to. It would be best if you do the same and just listen to the others.”

You turn away from him for good this time, crossing your arms together.

Gould didn’t say anything anymore for the next thirty minutes, but you can definitely still sense that he is watching you and not the podium, nor was he paying any attention to the ongoing discussion. He has done nothing else but watched you from where he sat, right until the session came to its end. You hurriedly but silently get up from your chair and walk to the opposite side of the row so you don’t have to turn and look at him anymore. You’re almost near the exit when Ms. Von Einzberns stops you at your tracks.

She leads you aside with a hand on your arm. “Is everything okay, Kirei? You look rather upset.”

“Do I?” you blink at her, trying to sound innocent.

“Well, I noticed that Mr. Gould has been speaking to you during the group discussion,” she looks worriedly into your eyes. “Did he say something to upset you? Because I don’t want any of the members to step on each other’s toes or anything like that…especially with Mr. Gould himself.”

“No,” you try a smile, “it’s nothing like that at all. Please do not distress yourself with such a trivial thing.”

“Are you sure, Kirei?” she asks pointedly. You nod once.

“If that really is the case,” she begins, “would you mind partnering up with Mr. Gould for next week’s assignment?”

You gaze at her in surprise. “Assignment?”

She chuckles, dismissing your inattention easily as she explains, “It’s a new activity I want to try. I encouraged everyone to pair up and write a biographical piece about the other,” her cheeks start to turn pink, “I know it’s sounds terribly like a high school paper, but I thought it’d be a great exercise for the members to see things from another’s perspective, and be able to compose a narrative that would capture one another’s life stories...then share them for next meeting.”

“As long as it’s not graded, then I don’t see why not.” Gould steps into your line of vision with a toothy grin. Ms. Von Einzbern is startled but she smiles back at him in a sheepish manner nonetheless.

“Is this really acceptable to the both of you?” she ask, particularly holding your gaze.

“This isn’t kindergarten, miss,” Gould answers her with a chuckle. “You don’t have to worry if everyone gets along especially when it comes to a pair of grown men. I’m sure Kirei and I can be civil and accomplish our task.”

Ms. Von Einzbern turns into a deeper shade of pink again. “All right. I understand. As long as you’re both okay with this arrangement.”

“Oh, I am.” Gould shoots you a decisively challenging stare. “How about you, Kirei Kotomine? Do you think you can handle writing a composition about my fabulous and stimulating life of danger and intrigue?”

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as you answer with just a hint of sarcasm. “One can most certainly try to live up to such ludicrous expectations.”

“Shit, Kirei,” Gould cocks his head to the side as he rakes his fingers through his hair. His lips curl into a sneer as he maintains eye contact with you, “you’re going to make this extra difficult for me, aren’t you?”

Before you could reply, he is already talking over you, “No matter. I’m a very patient and exacting man. I wouldn’t mind untangling a little difficulty here and there. Besides, much like I enjoy deflowering virgins, I think I would find you just as enjoyable of an exercise as well.” He purposefully says the last statement aloud as he begins to head towards the exit.

Kay and a few others nearby turn their heads towards Gould and you after he made such a bizarre and offhand comment without any kind of context. Meanwhile, Ryuunosuke beams instantly and looks as if he is about to agree with that statement, but then you shot him a warning glare as you pass him by to communicate that it wouldn’t be in his best interest to do so. He complies.

After Gould reaches the doors, he suddenly turns around and calls out to you. “Kirei!”

Everyone else could only watch in awe the exchange as Gould hooks a finger to beckon you.

With a confident smile, he says: “You best follow me.”

 

 

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